


Go Write a Song

by southbroflovski



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday Party, Drama, Eric Cartman Being Eric Cartman, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, High School, M/M, Party, Party Games, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southbroflovski/pseuds/southbroflovski
Summary: The only thing that comes out of Cartman knowing something he shouldn’t is chaos.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Eric Cartman/Heidi Turner, Former Red/Wendy Testaburger, Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 25
Kudos: 33





	1. For Buttercup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dorkdipstick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkdipstick/gifts).



> tw: implied underage alcohol consumption (chapter 2)

Hot steam soared off of the freshly poured cup of coffee. A scorching hot droplet jumped and splashed at the tip of Kyle’s thumb, earning a huffed  _ Fuck! _ from under his breath as he shook his hand frantically and pressed it to the beige apron. This customer, a smug, lanky man with an awfully nasal voice, was already nearly unbearable to serve, and it was hard to keep this small thing from pushing him over the edge. With a grumble, he moved over to the other stations and added in caramel, almond milk, and everything else the douchebag requested. In a rush to get him and his judgemental looks to leave the coffee shop, he snatched a croissant from the box under the counter and shoved it in a brown paper bag. He gripped it tightly in order to smash it just the tiniest bit for his own satisfaction and slammed the order on the counter. The man was excessively checking his watch and sighing audibly the whole time after having the audacity to call him incompetent for not getting his order right away. He unfortunately was a regular and had to know that Kyle had just started working at Tweek Bros. last week. After noticing that no one was around, Kyle called out for him, “Hey, dickface,” while ringing the bell on the counter. Conveniently enough, footsteps sounded from behind him and Kyle froze in place. The man finally walked up to get his order in a snooty fashion, examining everything laid out in front of him. 

“Kyle! You can’t do that, man! You’re gonna make us look bad!” Tweek screeched walking up to the counter. “Hi, sir. I’m sorry—he’s new here,” he tried to explain, nervous of the “customer mistreatment” being reported to his parents, who owned the place. The man hummed in return.

He picked up the paper bag with the tips of his fingers as if it disgusted him before stopping and pointing out, “This croissant looks a bit flattened. I need another one or my money back.” Note that the baked good was only lightly pressed in on the top and in perfectly fine condition.

Kyle turned around while squeezing his eyes shut in annoyance and mumbling, “ _ Fucking Christ _ .” 

Tweek reached his hand out to Kyle’s shoulder to stop him, and said tensely, “I’ll get it.” Kyle walked with heavy feet into the room Tweek was previously in and plopped down at the table, not bothering to pick up his phone, knowing he would return any minute. Kyle heard his nervous voice say, “Enjoy your day, sir!” with no response returned, before the door to the break room swung open, revealing a visibly unhappy Tweek. 

“Damn it, Kyle! I know that guys an asshole, but you can’t treat him like he is one! If my parents heard about that you could be fired, and I don’t even know what I’d be! Oh God!” He shouted, running his hands through his hair, notably stressed.

After cooling down, Kyle felt a little guilty for upsetting Tweek. They were decent friends, having hung out a few times outside of school and work recently. He was the one who mentioned that Tweek Bros. was hiring and that he could try to convince his parents to hire Kyle after he complained about needing a job to help save up for college in the event that he didn’t get a full ride scholarship, which he knew would be extremely difficult. He hoped that working his ass off with school and basketball would pay off, but he couldn’t get his hopes up so high. Evidently, he got the job, and the last thing he wanted was to ruin the great opportunity. After all, he got to work with a friend and get paid. The main flaw was that many customers at coffee shops, or at least this one, are impatient or frankly just annoying to deal with. “I’m sorry, Tweek. He was just being a dick. If he didn’t try to report anything it’s okay, right?” He asked, already knowing the answer, but questioning it aloud more for Tweek’s sake.

He hesitated in a moment of thought, then answered anxiously, wiping sweaty hands to his sides, “No, he didn’t  _ say _ he wanted to report anything. But, that doesn’t mean that he won’t!”

“It’s okay,” Kyle spoke, trying to calm him down. “Even if he would try, we could just make something up.” 

“Make something up?!” He shouted. “That’s too much pressure! What if my parents found out we lied?!”

“Sit down for a second,” Kyle urged him, trying to keep him from a possible anxiety attack since things were escalating. He was unsure if Tweek was on his way to having one, but Kyle knew he was prone to those. He took a seat at the small round table across from Kyle. “We would just tell your parents that he was being dramatic and only trying to get more money out of us—which actually  _ is _ true.” 

Tweek plopped his chin atop his hands in thought and finally stated, “I guess you’re right, but you’d have to tell them! I am  _ not _ doing that.”

Kyle stood up, pushing in his plastic chair. “I can do that,” he accepted, smiling. It was about time to clock out. He untied his apron and politely asked, “Did you need any more help before I go?” Tweek shook his head no, and his twitching hands slowed a lot which was a good sign. “Okay, cool,” he said, turning to hang up the apron. On another thought, he swiveled back around and pointed towards him, asking, “Oh, and are you going to Butters’ party later?”

Tweek replied, “Yeah, I’ll be there. It might be a little after it starts, though. Craig is supposed to take me.”

“Makes sense. See you then,” he waved, pushing the abnormally heavy break room door open. Tweek returned the bye with a kind smile. 

Kyle strolled through the currently empty building, eyes pointed towards his screen. With quick thumbs, he shot a text to Kenny to let him know he was leaving work and on his way. A couple weeks ago, Kenny had recruited Kyle and Stan to help him set up for Butters’ surprise birthday party. The plan was to host it at Stan’s house to avoid any problems with Butters’ parents, since they could be unreasonably strict. It was almost as if they found joy in grounding and disciplining their son. That was something a lot of people in their class had picked up on more and more over the years. While Butters sometimes found the majority’s sympathy for his home life somewhat embarrassing and unnecessary, he was at least grateful for the decrease in bullying he experienced. Kenny was definitely helpful with that, too. He seemed to be relatively more protective over Butters, and also got slightly more aggressive towards Cartman with time, who lacked common decency and found joy in manipulating Butters. Though, even Cartman, as selfish as he is, still had a slight soft spot for the boy when it came to other people hurting him. Kenny was a pretty easy going guy nearly 99% of the time, but there were those 1% of times where he could lose his shit. The last time that happened, Cartman got a rocketing fist to the face and it shut him up immediately. 

It was a couple hours before people were supposed to arrive for the party, and Kyle was making his way downtown to where the train tracks were. If he was correct they’d be making great time for setting up. Within a few minutes, Kyle pulled up in front of Kenny’s house. He was already waiting on the steps with a few plastic grocery bags beside him. As soon as the car pulled up, he removed his head from his hands, seemingly trying to wipe an annoyed look off his face. 

Kyle rolled down the agonizingly slow window and greeted him as he walked over to the passengers side, now chipper. “Hey, Kyle,” he answered. 

Kyle gripped the gear shift and put the car in drive while asking, “Are you good? You looked kinda pissed when I got here,” with a quick glance in his direction. He noticed that the white shirt Kenny threw on suited him pretty nicely and was just a smidge dressier than usual. Not particularly dressy, but a bit fancier—if you could call it that—than Kenny typically wore. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, waving him off. “Kevin was just getting on me about spending money. He acts like we’re sharing  _ my _ money that  _ I  _ earned from work. It’s just annoying.”

“You mean what you spent on the party?” Kyle questioned for clarification.

“Yeah,” he confirmed with a nod. In Kyle’s opinion, for someone who just got out of an argument, he was acting really chill.

“How much did you spend?” Kyle wondered, curly hair bobbing as they popped over a bump. He cursed quietly to himself while Kenny remained unbothered by it. 

He directed his gaze from the road ahead to Kyle and paused. “Okay, but you can’t get mad at me.”

Kyle looked over with a concerned expression. “That’s never good to hear.”

“I probably spent about $500,” he blurted, immediately making Kyle’s eyes go wide.

“$500? What the fuck, Kenny! That’s way too much! Stan and I even helped you pay for stuff!” He sputtered in disbelief, tightening his grip on the wheel until his knuckles whitened. 

Despite getting the reaction he told Kyle not to give him, a small smirk still sat on his face. He was proud of himself in a way for working hard and using the earnings for something that really mattered to him. “I knew you’d say that,” he chuckled. “I already got enough of it from Kevin. I don’t need another lecture.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, and toned it down. “Damnit, dude. I can’t believe you spent that much,” he huffed, trailing off.

“Well, he means a lot to me,” Kenny explained, straightening up. 

“Believe me, I know,” answered Kyle, earning a laugh from Kenny. 

After a few more minutes of chatting back and forth, moments filled with Kyle ranting about his frustrating day at work and Kenny indulging him, they pulled into Stan’s vacant driveway. Usually his dented 2002 grey sedan would take up a spot, but it was at the shop again. Stan thought it was an ugly car, but that it was so ugly that it had a certain charm to it. Though, it could just be because it was his first car. 

The boys opened the already unlocked front door to see him, while he was unsurprisingly sitting lazily on the couch waiting. “Hey,” he smiled at them, looking up. 

“What’s up, Stan the man,” Kenny cheesily greeted, making his way to the dining table to unload the plastic bags he brought.

“So you decided to wait until we got here to start doing anything?” Kyle said discontentedly.

He stood up, revealing a slight indent on the couch that would only show as visibly as it did if he had been there awhile. “I got a bit distracted,” he offered loosely. “We have time though.”

Kyle sighed, glancing at his watch, “Yeah, a little less than two hours.”

“That should be enough,” he returned, tapping his fingers to his thighs. “Let’s start setting up, then.”

They joined Kenny at the kitchen table and began arranging snacks and food first. Kyle took it upon himself to get the light blue cups that Kenny insisted were necessary—because it was Butters’ favorite color—despite being slightly more expensive than red solo cups and separated them into a few equal stacks. “Remind me why we have to do this again,” Kyle said, not too fond of parties. Kenny did get his hands on some alcohol. He didn’t think Butters would want it there necessarily, but Stan recommended using it as an incentive for people to come. While it might’ve been unideal for a birthday party, at least one for Butters, Stan was right. There was a loose limit on the things some teenagers would do to get their hands on alcohol.

Kenny smiled, enjoying talking about his boyfriend whenever he could. “Because I love him and he’s the sweetest person on the face of the earth.”

Stan raised his eyebrows and reached for the bag of cheesy poofs to empty them into a big bowl that better supported the display. “If my house gets trashed though, you’re staying to help clean it up.” Conveniently enough, Stan’s whole family had been out of town this weekend. They travelled to New York for his dad’s—Lorde’s—concert. Shelly ended up going with and bringing a friend so that she could brag about meeting Lorde before and having the star remember it so she could look cool. Stan hadn’t listened in much during that conversation, but he remembered she said that Dad “owed her one”. He opted to not go because there wasn’t really any reason to. He had no desire to go watch Randy perform on stage in front of a bunch of people who didn’t realize he was just a weird middle-aged man from Colorado. He would way rather spend time with Kyle and his friends than listen to the inevitable arguing that was like a package deal with Marsh family trips. At least some good stuff came from it like getting to move off of that godforsaken weed farm due to Randy’s lack of time to tend to it. It also allowed for weekends like this. 

With a variety of snacks on display, the boys moved on to work on a bit of cleaning up and decorations. Kenny’s phone dinged with an alert, and he retrieved packs of blue and yellow balloons, tossing them towards Stan, who caught it against his chest with ease. “You guys can start blowing those up and throwing them wherever,” he directed. “There’s more in the bag, but I’m gonna go pick up the cake.”

“Are you sure you’re fine carrying a cake and walking?” Stan asked, tearing open the plastic.

“Yeah, if you want we can drive my car to pick it up,” Kyle proposed. 

Though it was tempting, Kenny turned down the offer and decided walking would be nice. The weather was decent for South Park with a temperature of around 70°F at the moment. It wasn’t too warm or too cold and had a medium appeal that Kenny felt was perfect. Plus, it’d only be approximately a 10 minute walk to get there. “I’ll be back in about 25,” he estimated, headed for the door. 

Stan and Kyle said bye, though Kenny wouldn’t be gone long. He shut the door behind himself and they both wordlessly decided that sitting on the floor would be more comfortable than standing another minute and plopped down on the carpet. Stan placed the bag between them and fished for a balloon. “So, are you excited? I know how you feel about parties,” Stan started, laughing a little as he imagined Kyle’s countless previous rants about his negative party experiences.

Kyle sighed and began weaving his index fingers into the lip of a yellow balloon to stretch it. “Yes, Stan. I’m thrilled.” Stan laughed at the sarcasm before lifting the latex to his mouth. It grew and grew with each breath, looking tense like it could burst in a split second. Kyle continued, “At least it’s a birthday party, though. They’re usually better.”

Stan struggled a bit when he tried to wrap the end around his fingers, but finally succeeded in tying a trusty enough knot on the end. “You’re such a party pooper,” he teased. 

Kyle smiled, then seemed to nearly explode with laughter out of nowhere. The balloon that was half-filled with air shot away from his lips and flew through the room with a loud fart noise, causing them both to laugh or laugh even harder. Kyle was doubled over, rolling on the floor. Stan ended up falling to his side with him. 

“What was so funny?” he heaved out when it died down enough. Kyle peeked up at him from his back, and his smirk broke into another laugh. “Dude, tell me!” Stan urged on. 

There was a small moment of quiet until Kyle struggled to finally force out, “It’s funny ‘cause…you’re actually the party pooper.” 

A moment of realization hit Stan and he gasped. “You motherfucker!” he shouted over a practically howling Kyle, pretending to be offended. Grabbing the plump balloon, he began to whack him with it. He couldn’t help but giggle as he kept on attacking Kyle, who was completely immersed in a pile of snickers, and watched his weak attempt at guarding himself with loose elbow jabs. His smile was virtually glowing—all of him was, really, and Stan found himself admiring every part of it. 

Kyle wasn’t wrong, technically, with the right context. Over a year ago, Stan had dragged Kyle to Clyde’s Christmas party, despite Kyle not celebrating Christmas. Sometimes he ended up partaking in some traditions with his friends against the interest of his mother so that he didn’t miss out on too much, but none that actually went against Judaism itself. For most of that night in particular, Stan wandered off and Kyle spent the majority of the time hanging out with Tweek and Craig or Heidi. By the end of the night, Stan was nearly blackout drunk. It was one of the reasons Kyle wasn’t too fond of parties. After Kyle grew too bored, he walked around searching for Stan to let him know he was going to head home for the night. Eventually, he found him outside in the midst of pulling down his pants and taking a huge shit in the middle of Clyde’s front lawn as Clyde just laughed, clearly in a drunken state, and Token stood helplessly in disapproval. It was definitely disgusting and embarrassing for the both of them somehow, but was also pretty funny looking back. No one would ever let Stan live it down, it seemed. He was, quite literally, a party pooper. 

It was closer to a half an hour before Kenny returned with a cake. Stan and Kyle had gotten distracted with each other and failed to even touch the third and final pack of balloons. Kyle at least had blown up the bulk of what they did have done, trying to stay on task, but Stan fell behind and probably only filled and tied about 10. 

Out of seemingly nowhere, the blonde boy strolled in, lightly kicking the door shut behind him. Stan was working on blowing up his measly 11th balloon, but accidentally let it go at the surprise of his presence. It soared with a toot straight into Kenny’s face who barely flinched, falling onto the cover of the cake. He chuckled, “Marsh, you are so lucky this cake has a case over it.”

“Imagine if you had to go all the way back and get another,” Kyle spoke, pushing off his knees to stand up. 

They followed Kenny into the kitchen where he placed the large rectangular cake on the counter. “Oh, I wouldn’t have gone back. I would’ve made Stan do it.”

“Well good thing the cake is  _ fine _ ,” Stan emphasized, leaning over to examine it. In pretty blue lettering, the surface read  _ Happy Birthday Buttercup!  _ It was a bit cheesy, but they expected nothing less from Kenny. He read over the order sticker on the transparent plastic cover, and grinned with excitement. “You got buttercream icing? Hell yeah! I love buttercream!”

Kyle fondly raised his eyebrows at him, in awe of his odd outburst of glee over a type of icing. Kenny agreed, saying, “You know I wouldn’t get whipped. Whipped is for pussies.”

Kyle folded his arms and interjected, “Well, whipped isn’t  _ that _ bad.” 

Stan shot him a hard look with shocked, wide eyes. “You did not just say that.”

“It’s lighter and fluffier,” Kyle explained with his voice shooting up an octave or two, confused as to how he was so opinionated about this. 

“Kyle,” Kenny said, cocking his head to the side. “Come on now.”

His eyes danced back and forth between the two of them who stared, appalled. Flipping his arms out, he added, “Buttercream isn’t even bad, but you’re fucked up in the head if you think  _ whipped _ is nasty.”

Stan scoffed, shaking his head and turning away. Kenny simply stood there, astounded, and uttered, “I will never understand that head of yours, man.”

Over the course of the next 45 minutes, Kenny had them go all out with streamers and strung them across the railing and ceiling. He even hung rows of string lights above their heads for a nice touch. Kyle was walking around to make sure everything was in order before people arrived. Kenny slowly spun around as he admired their work and decent decorating job. Had Kyle not adjusted some of Stan’s slip-ups with the tape and streamers, it probably wouldn’t have looked as nice. It likely wouldn’t last too long after the party got into motion, but hopefully it would stay until Butters showed up. 

With a small bit of time left over, the boys were strewn across the floor and couch, chatting about anything while they waited for the first guest to knock. The first knock sounded about 5 minutes early. Personally, Stan thought that being slightly late to parties was the best time to show up. Then you weren’t the first there, but also didn’t miss out. Most people showed a few minutes later anyways.

Kenny sprung up and opened it, revealing Craig’s apathetic face and Tweek’s smiling one behind it. “Hey guys, come on in,” Kenny welcomed them, gesturing largely to the essentially empty room. Tweek nodded and Craig walked past swiftly.

Kyle stood up from his spot on the floor. “Hey, Tweek. Craig. I thought you were supposed to be late?”

“We were supposed to be. Craig got his sister to go to a friend’s house, so he didn’t have to watch her anymore,” Tweek explained, wrapping his hand around to rest on Craig’s shoulder. 

Craig lightly smiled at the touch but let it fade away quickly and said monotonically, “I was told there would be cake.”

“It’s a birthday party,” Stan muttered, causing Craig to flip him off which he rolled his eyes at.

Guests continued filing in, some bringing colorful bags and boxes. The house was becoming pretty full, and heavily bass-boosted music, likely being played from Clyde’s phone despite it being Stan’s house, was playing from the speakers, which Wendy looked irritated by. She left the corner by the thumping speaker and Kenny followed her on her way to the drinks. Tapping her on the shoulder, he asked, “Hey, I’m gonna go pick up Butters. Could you help Kyle quiet everyone down right before I get back?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I can do that. Why me, though?”

He shrugged and claimed, “You’re assertive and people listen to you.”

Wendy smiled softly. “Thank you.”

“Uh huh,” he hummed, patting her on the shoulder, aiming back towards the front of the house where Kyle and Stan appeared extremely invested in their conversation. The two boys sat on either side of the couch, backs against the armrests and legs in an uncomfortable-looking pile in the middle. He stopped in front of them and it took a few seconds for either to even notice he was hovering. Stan averted his gaze up to Kenny, unable to break his jaw-paining smile. “I’m gonna go pick up Butters,” Kenny informed them. 

Kyle finally looked up at him as if he struggled to tear his eyes off of his best friend, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Kenny, who gave him an odd look. “Okay. Text me before you get back,” Kyle told him, ignoring it and fetching his keys out of his pants pocket. He slapped them into Kenny’s palm.

He began walking away and gave an affirmative, “Yep.”

Before he could get out the door, Kyle hollered over the music, “Oh, and Kenny—” twisting around on the couch. Kenny turned around, hand on the knob. Kyle pointed at him and gave a lecturing look that only Kyle had mastered, “Don’t text and drive. Do it when you’re stopped somewhere. You better not wreck my car!”

“Okay, Mom,” Kenny taunted, tossing his keys up softly and shutting the door. He slipped into the driver’s seat of Kyle’s car and pulled away. Oddly enough, he felt a tad nervous. He knew in his heart that Butters would love everything no matter what, but he still wanted everything to be perfect. He’d planned this for months, putting together paychecks and arranging casual invites. It felt as though the actual day wouldn’t come and it was all planning, but now it was actually here, and he hoped it was worth it. To him, anything that brought Butters happiness was worth it. Everyone knew he deserved it.

Several minutes later, a buzz vibrated from inside Kyle’s pocket, and he hopped off of the couch. “They’re leaving,” he notified Stan, who nodded, pushing his feet off the cushions.

“Hey!” Kyle yelled, only grabbing a couple people’s attention nearby. He groaned and stormed over to the speaker, nudging Clyde out of the way. He cranked the volume down, making the brunette boy complain. He already stank of beer and Kyle rolled his eyes. “Attention everyone! Kenny just picked up Butters and they’re on their way now!”

Most people ignored him and went back to whatever they were doing. “Guys,” a higher voice chimed in. “That means we’re supposed to hide! It’s a surprise party! Shut up and find a spot!”

“Thank you, Wendy,” Kyle shouted across the room, annoyed by the group of people who didn’t listen. “Everyone go squat down somewhere,” he commanded them. People finally started moving, even if slowly, and eventually everyone found a relatively hidden spot.

Stan was the only one out in the open because it was his house, so naturally, he’d be the one opening the door. Just as the last person snuck away, an obnoxious knock banged against the door. Stan raised his finger up to shush everyone, and casually walked over to the unceasing noise. Ignoring the small chuckles and giggles sounding from the kitchen, he let the light outside flood in, revealing the last person he wanted to see.

“Oh, hello, Stan! What a surprise!” He sneered.

Stan’s whole body noticeably tensed and he grumbled, “Go the fuck home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter serves more as an introduction to the story and sets what’s going on. TOD prompt requested by LightsCameraIzzy :)


	2. Intimidation Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: implied underage alcohol consumption

“Is there a problem, hippie?” Cartman asked, feigning innocence.

Kyle audibly groaned from behind the arm of the couch. “Get out! No one invited you, fatass!”

“Well, someone’s got sand in their vagina,” he taunted back, trying to push his buttons. Stan was so close to shutting the door in his face, but Cartman was prepared and slammed the side of his fist into it, forcing himself inside.

The fiery redhead, known for his stereotypical hotheadedness, was just about to storm over and give Cartman what he deserved, but was stopped by a hand with glossy lavender nails nudging him aside. It belonged to none other than Wendy Testaburger. It was partially out of character for her. Usually, Wendy would commend anyone who fought with that asshole, occasionally it being herself. However, Kyle supposed it wasn’t one of those days. He was too surprised to even follow through.

Long black hair trailed behind her back and she stomped straight over to him with authority. “They’re about to be here. We don’t have time for this. Just let his dumbass in,” she directed Stan, who reluctantly complied with a whine.

“Thanks, bitch,” he prodded as if he wanted to get a fist to the face.

Wendy snatched his collar intensely with furious eyes. “If you fuck  _ anything _ up, you’re done for,” she threatened him in an oddly calm voice. Though, there was a bitter undertone that made Cartman’s eyes bulge.

He awkwardly shifted his arms up in surrender, and she rolled her eyes, retreating to her spot. Stan hastily peeped out of the doorway and closed it gently. Cartman found himself a spot behind the kitchen wall and Stan plopped back on the couch with a racing mind. It was hard not to let his whole demeanor change with Cartman here. Usually, Stan would brush off the annoying shit he pulled, but now was an exception. Tonight it felt like there was an impending doom ominously looming over him. There has been ever since last week, and it just kept on growing.

_ “I gotta go to the bathroom. You better not start the next race,” Stan told Cartman, knowing he likely would disregard that so he could win. _

_ “As if I need a head start,” Cartman scoffed, fiddling with the Wii controller. Stan rolled his eyes and continued down the hall. _

_ Cartman snickered and hopped up from his spot. He decided to scour Stan’s room, perhaps because he was nosy, or maybe because he just found joy in doing things he knew would irritate whoever happened to be the unlucky victim. In this case, it was Stan. _

_ He peeked under the bed, rising with a huff, in the closet, and under Stan’s pillow: the most obvious places for hiding something. His first thought was that Stan would be dumb enough to hide something interesting in an obvious place, but maybe whatever he was hoping to find was juicier than he initially thought, and therefore required a less obvious spot. The nosy boy rushed to scour the room, getting increasingly frustrated until at last he encountered a booklet found stuffed in the bed frame with chunky writing—undoubtedly Stan’s. “Aha!” He despicably exclaimed, flipping through the pages before returning to the start. _

_ It was close to an inch thick including the leathery wrap around cover. Nearly half of it was filled with scratchy scribbles and scattered words in mostly deep blue pen ink. Cartman thumbed through until he found the last page with writing on it—and it was only dated three days back. He skimmed over the couple most recent pages before darting back to something certain that caught his eye. “No fucking way. No fucking way,” he repeated in shock, pausing before letting out a mischievous chuckle. _

_ Cartman felt a presence behind him emerging through the doorway. He smacked the book shut, and spun around with a smirk. Stan looked absolutely terrified, and for good reason. “What are you doing?” He practically shrieked, frozen. _

_ “Thought I’d do some reading,” Cartman harassed him. Light flooded through the open curtain, highlighting Stan’s increasingly glossy eyes. “I didn’t know you were such a  _ musician _!” _

_ Those words broke Stan out of the haze he was in at last, and he charged towards Cartman frantically, hands flying to obtain the book. “Don’t fucking touch that you dick!” _

_ Cartman whined like a wimp as he got tangled in the aggressive hits and soon gave in, throwing the book onto the bed. Stan dashed for it, keeping a tight grip overtop, scared of Cartman daring to snatch it again. Stan was torn between an expression of frustration and fear, and it was all Cartman needed. The sinister grin mercilessly creeped back onto his face. They both knew he held a power over Stan now. Cartman was bound to abuse the power he got his hands on.  _

_ All Stan could do was pray that this time was different, and he crumpled. _

His anxiety-inducing flashbacks were cruelly interrupted by a fart and snicker, followed by complaints from everyone around, from who one would most expect. Kyle distinctly muttered, “Goddamnit!” as he lifted the neck of his shirt over the bridge of his nose. 

Not more than 30 seconds later, a much kinder knock sounded from the entryway. Stan tried to force himself to breathe rhythmically as he padded towards it and opened the door, revealing a giddy Kenny and Butters. “What’s up guys? Come on in,” he welcomed them casually.

“Hey man, long time no see,” Kenny joked with a wink. Stan patted him on the shoulder in return.

“Hey, Butters! I heard it was your  _ birthday _ ,” he enunciated, queuing everyone to shoot up. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” The party of voices shouted, mostly in sync—or at least in sync enough.

He brought his hands to his mouth and gasped in surprise, which was the intent, looking gleeful, “Is this what I think it is? For me? Aw, you fellas shouldn’t have!”

“Of course we should’ve,” Kenny smiled back, reaching for a hug that was returned without hesitation. They pulled apart, and Kenny warmly said, “You deserve it,” plopping a quick smooch and his boyfriend’s lips.

“Thank you, Ken,” Butters beamed gratefully.

Kyle approached them from the corridor to wish Butters a happy birthday, giving him a quick side hug. The four, or more so three boys, made conversation for close to a minute longer until too many people wandered over to courteously do the same.

As the focus shifted, Kyle nudged Stan away to the side, looking concerned, mostly at his ongoing silence. “Are you good, Stan?”

He sighed, “I really don’t want Cartman here.” Inside Stan cringed at his voice cracking and stuffed his hands in his pockets, playing with tiny balls of lint.

“I know. None of us do,” Kyle grumbled, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Stan just nodded, not wanting to continue talking about it. Kyle was already upset that Stan wouldn’t tell him what Cartman did to him that shook him up so bad. He could only imagine, and it seemed as though there wasn’t anything Cartman  _ wouldn’t _ do. 

“Why don’t we go get a drink quick?” Kyle suggested, pointing a thumb towards the kitchen. 

“Okay, yeah,” Stan grimly answered. 

They walked through clusters of their peers through to the kitchen where Heidi lingered quietly, a bag of vegetable chips in hand. Kyle picked up two red solo cups and filled them with root beer, their mutually favorite soda. 

He handed the cup to Stan and took a sip as the shy girl approached them. “Hey, guys,” she greeted them guiltily.

“Hey, Heidi. What’s up?” Kyle asked. She clearly had something on her mind.

“Um, I just wanted to apologize. I know Eric wasn’t supposed to know about this party, but I felt bad not telling him where I was going. He thought I was going to cheat on him or something, and I didn’t want him to be upset. I don’t know. I’m sorry guys,” she rambled on, looking everywhere but their eyes. 

“Oh,” is all Stan said. He was irritated, sure, but not as much at Heidi as he was at Cartman. He had experience with the lengths that boy would go to get his way, so he had to feel at least some sympathy towards her. However, they’d made it known to everyone—except Cartman—that he wasn’t to know about the party. It’d just have been better off that way.

“It’s fine,” Kyle offered, forcing a smile. “You really shouldn’t let him guilt you into stuff, though.” He set his drink beside him on the counter, leaning back into it. 

“What do you mean?” She asked in bewilderment.

Kyle and Stan gave a glance at each other before Kyle explained, “I doubt he’s actually worried you were cheating on him. He’s just insecure so he guilted you into getting him into Butters’ party. You’re smart. I’m sure you can see that,” he added on, realizing he got a bit carried away as he was on the verge of shit-talking her boyfriend in front of her. The bare idea of someone dating him made Kyle swallow a gag.

She swallowed, tapping her fingers on her cup. “You know, he’s really not all that bad.”

An awkward silence settled over them. The music and loud conversations jumping from the background became seemingly nonexistent. Kyle shifted uncomfortably, tensing his arms. Stan stepped in, “It’s fine. We’re gonna go check on Kenny.”

She nodded, taking the hint and staring into her cup as if it were a bottomless pit while they walked away. Kyle shook his head as soon as they were out of sight, astonished. “I will never understand what she sees in him. It’s just...bizarre.”

“I don’t either. It was almost like she was trying to convince  _ herself _ he wasn’t that bad back there. We would know how he is after having to be around him our entire lives,” Stan threw in.

Though they weren’t actually going to check on Kenny and plainly used it as a justification to leave that conversation that was turning unbearable with Heidi, there he was with Butters, advancing towards them. “Hey, Butters. How’s the party going?” Stan asked him.

“It’s going swell! Really, thank you guys. It means a lot to me,” he voiced gratefully.

“Of course, man,” returned Kyle with a grin.

“Is there anything you wanted to do?” Kenny buzzed, turning to look at Butters.

He gazed at the ceiling in thought before coming to a conclusion. “What if we play a game?” he inquired.

“What kind of a game?” Stan questioned. He couldn’t come up with any that would include enough guests, and truthfully, he didn’t even have that many board games laying around. Unless it was just the four of them participating, they were out of luck.

He hummed, contemplative. His eyes lit up with hope, and he gasped excitedly, “Maybe truth or dare?”

Kyle’s face morphed into an uneasy disapproving one. “Uh, are you sure that would be the best idea?”

Stan scrunched his nose. Truth or dare was not the type of game he was expecting. “Yeah, I don’t think that’d go over well.” His nerves increased rapidly as loads of possibilities flooded into his head.

“Well, if no one wants to I guess we don’t have to,” Butters complied with inherent disappointment.

“I’m sure they’d be okay with playing, right guys? It is your party after all,” Kenny egged on, clearly sending them a message. Stan pushed down a groan at a guilty feeling in his chest.

“I mean, if you really want to,” Stan caved, helplessly looking at Kyle for back up, who nodded back in his direction reluctantly. Unfortunately, Butters wanted to play an inherently drama-inducing game at a party with the majority of their class, including Cartman. Kyle on the other hand was never a big fan of the game.

Kenny grinned, patting Butters on the back. “Sweet, do you want me to get everyone together?”

“Yeah, thanks guys!”

Butters watched as Kenny hopped over to the speaker to lower the volume. “Everyone!” Kenny shouted, creating a mock megaphone by cupping his hands. “We’re all gonna play a classic game of truth or dare!” He clapped his calloused palms together, rubbing them back and forth, playfully mischievous.

Clyde popped out of the bathroom at the announcement and cheered, “Hell yeah! Are we doing shots for whoever pussies out?”

Kenny looked over at Stan optimistically and he begrudgingly nodded. He didn’t want his mom to notice any missing alcohol when they got back, but wasn’t going to be the one to kill the fun. If it came to worst, he could probably blame it on his dad. But, Stan Marsh was  _ not _ a party killer.

Both Kenny and Clyde whooped and dashed to the kitchen as a crowd of people formed a circle in the middle of the living room. Some were eager to play, like Bebe, Red, and even Token, who didn’t particularly like to get involved, but did have to admit he enjoyed watching. Others, however, like Wendy, Tweek, Stan, and Kyle weren’t too keen on participating. If they weren’t as close of friends with Butters, they wouldn’t be engaging. Stan likely would have under other circumstances, had Cartman not been there, but he was desperate to get out of the situation he was unfortunately stuck in.

Stan squatted down in between Kyle and Wendy on the floor. “I really don’t wanna play,” he whispered apprehensively.

“Me either. Usually I would, but I’m not in the mood with that bitch here,” Wendy scowled, and Stan cocked his head understandably.

Kyle huffed in agreement. These things never ended up well, but he knew better than to try to stop it. It was rare for others to listen to him against their best interest, so in the moment he’d follow along.

Clyde and Kenny skipped in from the kitchen with a tall bottle of vodka and a single shot glass, taking a seat in the opening of the circle. Kenny placed the bottle in the middle and plopped down between Clyde and Butters. “Okay Buttercup, why don’t you spin first since it’s your birthday?” Kenny gestured. The overly romantic nickname earned a mostly sarcastic gag of disgust from a few sitting in the circle.

“Alright,” he smiled, reaching forward to spin and see who he’d have to ask. Everyone stared suspensefully as it whirled around, finally pointing conveniently at Kenny, who happily looked at him, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. “Truth or dare, Kenny?”

“Truth,” he chose.

“How much do you love me?” Butters giggled.

“I love you to infinity,” Kenny emphasized cheesily, laying a hand on top of his thigh. The circle erupted into pleas for them to stop, god forbid their ears hear such sickening romance, and a few scattered, drowned out awes.

“And beyond,” Butters added laughing.

“God, Butters, you’re such a gaywad,” sneered Cartman in genuine repulsion.

Kenny rolled his eyes, defending, “Try not to get all jealous of our  _ beautiful _ relationship.” Heidi shrunk, but it went unnoticed, even by Cartman who scoffed and folded his arms.

Kenny picked up his hand to spin the vodka in the middle, resulting in it stopping on Bebe. “Ooh!” she smiled, clapping her hands together. “Dare!”

Kenny gripped his chin thoughtfully. “Okay. Put Clyde’s foot in your mouth for 3 seconds,” he ordered impishly. It was known that Clyde had pretty nasty feet.

Her mouth fell agape. “3 whole seconds?” She exclaimed.

“Oh, come on! My feet aren’t  _ that _ bad!” Clyde fussed, scooching over to wiggle his toes in her face. She and the people beside her leaned away.

“Ew! Clyde!” She groaned. “Kenny, can I just do one toe or something?”

“Fine,” he droned. “Big toe, though.”

“You’re cruel,” she shook her head. “Fine. Clyde get your ass over here.”

He chuckled, bracing his leg with his hands. Bebe eyed his abnormally stinky foot and inched towards it. Everyone stared intently, waiting to see if she would back down. “Bet you she doesn’t do it,” Red announced amidst the tense air.

That was all it took. “Okay, Rebecca,” she said, going straight in. Noises of surprise sounded from around them. She held all three seconds that Kenny counted and finally tore away, spitting into her empty cup traced with Sprite. “I’m never doing that again. Eff you, McCormick,” she shouted, flipping him off. Clyde buttscooted away, slipping back on his sock and trying to conceal the offense he took. 

“Hey, you could’ve taken a shot,” Kenny supplied, raising his arms in surrender.

“Of that nasty shit? Never. And like I’d ever back down from a dare,” she countered, flicking her blonde curls off her shoulder. She was definitely in the spirit of the game.

“Alright, alright,” he waved her off. “Spin it.”

This time, the top pointed directly at Craig. He let out a grumbly sigh, throwing his head back. Bebe was elated. “Yay, Craig! Truth or dare?” 

“Do I have to go?” he drawled nasally. Tweek played with the hem on his jeans beside him.

“Yes, now pick one,” Bebe demanded impatiently. 

“Fine. Dare.”

She leaned left to whisper with Red, debating what to make Craig do. “What are you doing? Hurry up and pick something,” Cartman egged on. Red rolled her eyes, ignoring him when he continued to groan. Some silently agreed while others told him to shut up.

Bebe sat up and clasped her hands together. “Okay, Craig. I dare you to make out with Tweek,” she concluded. Clyde hollered from the other side of the circle and Tweek shrieked.

“Seriously? That’s what you came up with? That was pretty anticlimactic,” Craig voiced aloud.

“I don’t want to! It’ll be weird if people watch,” Tweek cried out. “It’s too much pressure!”

Craig turned to look at Bebe. “How about just a quick kiss?” he offered.

She squinted for a second in thought before nearly immediately deciding, “Nope!”

“We’re not going to make out to fill your weird horny desires,” Craig deadpanned with internal disgust. Tweek nodded beside him in agreement.

“That’s not what this is!” Bebe argued. “It’d just be cute!”

“No. You’re weird. My boyfriend didn’t consent either, so I actually can’t do that anyways.”

Clyde started clapping. “Consent king!” he whistled, making Craig roll his eyes and Tweek giggle slightly under his breath. 

“Fine, you’re right. Take a shot then,” Bebe told him, crossing her arms.

Craig merely refuted that with a, “No,” and reached to spin it. Nobody stopped him. Maybe if it were someone other than Craig, they would’ve complained about the unfairness, but over the years most of them learned it would do no good anyways. He was a stubborn guy.

It whirled around to Cartman, who was uncharacteristically quiet for a good amount of the game thus far. He seemed oddly distant, but not so much in a sad way as in a disturbing, plotting-something way. However, his ass wasn’t silent after the PF Chang’s he ate yesterday. It was a wonder that he hadn’t been kicked out yet. 

“Truth or dare?” Craig monotonously asked with a sigh. He cringed at the words as they rolled off his tongue as if he was way too old to be playing a childish game.

“I ain’t no pussy. Dare,” he chose, portraying nonchalance as if he was trying to fuel his ego. 

“How about you don’t fucking fart the rest of the night?” Craig jabbed with repulsion laced in his voice.

“Oh, fuck you, Craig!” he shouted in irritation.

“You know if you don’t do the dare it means you’re a pussy,” he jeered back, unphased. The classmates snickered, but Kyle did loud and proud without hesitation. He admired Craig’s ability to get a rise out of Cartman. While it wasn’t extremely hard, it was always entertaining.

“No it does not! That’s so gay!” he countered frustratedly. Craig smirked but said nothing more, satisfied with the uprising he caused.

“Cartman just keep it in your ass and spin the bottle,” Kenny sighed.

“Shut up, rat boy,” he grumbled under his breath. Yet, he did as Kenny told and reached for the clear glass bottle. Stan felt an intense rush of anxiousness boiling in his throat. He absentmindedly reached over with one hand and began rubbing the end of Kyle’s shirt between his thumb and forefinger. Kyle was the only one who took notice, who felt the small pull of his shirt, and he quickly peeked down. The smile creeping up on his face was hard to contain, but he succeeded in pushing it back down.

Cartman visibly cheated by rotating the bottle to point directly at Stan. Kyle jumped in, “You have to actually spin it, dipshit.” Oddly enough, it goes ignored.

“Truth or dare, Stan?” Cartman questions. His fingers halt and he pulls his arms crossed over his chest defensively.

“Come on, dude. You can’t cheat like that,” he argued, voice partially cracking under pressure.

“Cartman, don’t be lame and just spin it,” Kenny advised him. He was ignored.

“Are you gonna pussy out of this one? Or, maybe pussy isn’t the right word,” he taunted, getting dramatically closer to revealing the exact thing Stan didn’t want him to reveal. There was a burning fueling up behind his eyes, but the last thing he needed to do was cry. That’d be embarrassing to no end. Confused eyes darted around the room, looking for answers as to what was going on.

“We’re gonna kick you out, fatass,” Kyle threatened. There was a tenseness growing in the room, and an irritation building in Kyle at his purposeful shunning.

Stan felt like there was no good way to get out of this. Cartman rarely didn’t get what he wanted when he really drove for it. Right now, he was going 100mph straight for what he wanted. People were waiting, staring at him. They were probably waiting for the game to continue and growing annoyed with him for not just taking his turn. So, he weighed his options. He could walk away, which would visibly create confusion or questions. Truth would undoubtedly be terrible. Of course, he could lie, but Stan was a bad liar, especially when he was on the verge of tearing up, nerves scattered through his body. Everything would be too obvious. He had to get out of this.

“Dare, whatever,” he spat.

Cartman cracked a smile. “Okay, why don’t you...make out with good ole Rebecca!”

At the mention of her name, Stan’s heart slowed. It wasn’t what he was expecting. Of course, he didn’t want to do it. He  _ really _ didn’t want to do it. Now that he thought about it, it was worse than he first envisioned. Did Cartman know what he said about her?

“Can I just have the shot glass?” he hesitantly requested.

“Why? Red’s fucking hot!” Cartman sputtered. Red loudly voiced her disgust from her spot on the floor. “You’d have to be a raging homosexual to not want to make out with her!”

Cartman paused and painted a look of realization on his face. “Oh. My. God.” he emphasized. Unimpressed looks dragged around the room, but Stan didn’t take in any of them. “Unless, you are one! Stan, no way! You should’ve told me! Why don’t you go write a  _ song _ about it?” he drawled.

Stan felt as if the whole room was staring at him, waiting for him to confirm everything he was trying to push away. Now it sounded way too personal and oddly specific for the blabber to not earn a few looks of interest. Cartman had made gay jokes before, mostly aimed at Kyle, but this felt different. This felt as though it couldn’t just be pushed away. Maybe, it was because Cartman was right. They both knew he was right. And now, Stan was desperate to get him to shut up.

“I’m not fucking gay! Ew! Don’t even say shit like that! Red, come here,” he aggressively demanded her, feigning complete and utter hatred, moving to the middle of the circle. Kenny frowned, knowing well enough that Stan wasn’t homophobic, and he and Butters stared on in confusion.

Red smirked. “Don’t be so eager,” she promiscuously purred. He dove straight in, forcing himself against her lips and pushing his fingers into her namely red hair. Whistles and hoots sounded from around them, Clyde cheering the loudest. Some just watched on in surprise. She reciprocated his aggressiveness, but without the same reasoning. Their reasons were perhaps on the complete opposite ends of the Earth, actually.

Wendy was the first to leave. She excused herself to get a drink, but it went unnoticed. Then, Kyle left next without excusing himself. Butters watched on with a frown, and asked Kenny if he should go check on him, to which Kenny replied with a supportive smile, “He’ll be fine. You know how Kyle can be. Just enjoy your party.”

Butters replied, “Okay,” and tried to brush it off, but was more worried about what was wrong with his friend than continuing the game. Still, he stayed on the floor as he heard Kyle jog up the stairs, heavy on his feet.

Red was the first to pull away, needing to catch her breath. Their lips were swollen and red, and Stan fought the urge to throw up. Not because she was gross or because she tasted like a nasty bourbon, but because she was a she—and if he was honest, a little bit because of the bourbon taste too, but he tried not to think about any of it. It didn’t feel right. None of this felt right, but he swore he had to do it. If people believed Cartman about this, then of course they would about the Kyle part. Cartman always teased them about being a couple, but that was before he knew. Eric Cartman actually knew that Stan liked Kyle. That gave him a leg up—a billion legs up—over him, and it was absolutely terrifying. It was a secret that could fully upturn his life, and it was in the hands of Eric Cartman.

Kyle was absent from the circle, and something clearly set him off. Stan tried to slow his breathing, already nauseous, and muttered, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” He stood up, glancing over everyone’s surprised faces.

“God damn, Marsh!” Token exclaimed, pulling his cup away from his lips as he practically spit out his drink.

A moment of realization hit him, and he whined, “Aw-aww! No! I’m not doing that!” as he pinched the bridge of his nose, flustered. Red licked her lips and didn’t break her intimidating gaze. “Jesus, dude,” he huffed under his breath, heading towards the stairs.

He stopped at the doorway to his room, nudging the door open and calling, “Kyle?” only he wasn’t there. It was Wendy. She sat on his carpet at the foot of the bed with red rimmed eyes, shadowed by running mascara. He gently shut the door and sped over to her, crouching down. “Wendy, I am so sorry, I was just—“

She cut him off, “No, Stan. Don’t apologize. It’s over and done with.”

“No, Wendy, I’m really sorry,” he rambled on. “I know I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t even want to.”

“Seriously? Save it. I’m not even worried about you. I mean, I thought we were friends, and I told you all about Red—God, I don’t even want to say her name—but I’m more mad at her. She’s such a fucking bitch,” she growled, clenching her fists.

Stan and Wendy hadn’t been in a relationship for a while. It actually had been a few years since their final breakup. Unlike most exes, they ended up staying good friends about a couple months afterwards. It was conveniently a mutual decision.

Wendy confided in Stan when she first had problems with Red. She was the first girl she ever experimented with when she was exploring her sexuality. Eventually she realized it was a mistake, but she developed a massive crush on her. Bebe had hyped her up to confess and ask Red out, but as soon as Wendy showed genuine romantic interest in her, Red pushed her away. She avoided her for a while, and there were days when Wendy would stop over at Stan’s house bawling or ranting because she felt so used.

The occurrences where Wendy ended up at Stan’s upset happened less and less often more recently, but of course this would set her off. How could he be so inconsiderate?

“I wasn’t thinking. Cartman was really getting to me...please forgive me. I don’t even like her. In fact, I hate her,” Stan begged, feeling extremely guilty.

“Yeah, I hate her, too. Or, I wish I did. Whatever, I’ll let it go. I just  _ know _ she did that to mess with me,” she complained somberly. “This is so embarrassing. I’m sitting in your room crying on the floor. What am I even doing?” she questioned, more so speaking to herself aloud than to Stan.

She stood up and he followed. “It’s okay to be upset. I would’ve been, too. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes. “I’ll be fine. I’m going back down. I’m not a little bitch,” she forced a joking smile.

“No, you aren’t,” he agreed, lightly laughing as he tried to hide his pity for her. “Do you know where Kyle went?”

“No. When I left he was still sitting there, but he did look mad I guess. But what’s new?” she thought aloud.

Stan nodded his head, opening the bedroom door. “Yeah, thank you.” She stepped out and laid a hand on the railing before he mentioned again, “And really, I’m sorry.”

She smiled back at him. “It’s okay, Stan. I’ll let you know if I see Kyle.”

He tapped her shoulder softly in return until she descended down the staircase and pulled out his phone, checking for any messages from him. There were none. What could  _ he _ possibly be angry over?

Stan floated through the upstairs hallway, peeking in doors. He cranked the knob to the bathroom open, poking his head in, only to see a flash of red curls sat on the toilet, elbows on his knees. Stan quickly popped back out, frantically apologizing.

“Oh, so walking in on me in the bathroom is too gay for you, huh Stan?” Kyle bickered. “I’m not fucking naked.”

“Oh,” Stan meekly answered, inviting himself back in and shutting the door behind.

Kyle’s tone temporarily changed and he pulled the skin on his face down with soft hands. “That was stupid. I don’t know why I said that,” he observed somewhat regretfully, holding back from a small apology.

“What did that even mean?” Stan barely stifled a laugh, getting the idea that they were joking around until he caught the daggers Kyle shot at him straight in the head.

“Was Cartman calling you gay seriously that agonizing that you had to make out with the girl you just spewed shit about last week?” Kyle glowered.

Stan froze for a second, trying to regroup himself. “Well, no, I just—“

He got cut off again, this time by Kyle. “You just what? I didn’t think you were fucking homophobic?”

“I’m not!” Stan squabbled with clenched brows.

“Then why’d you go, ‘Ew! I’m not gay!’? What the fuck was that for? How do you think Kenny and Butters felt?” Kyle yelled, standing up as he spastically threw his arms around in anger. 

Stan hesitated, unsure of how to answer, so he lied. “I didn’t even say that!” he denied, very obviously breaking eye contact.

“Yeah, okay,” Kyle rolled his eyes. “Don’t fucking bullshit me. I listened to you say it. What’s your problem?”

“I. Didn’t. Say. That. Or, if I did, I didn’t mean it,” Stan uttered desperately, stumbling over his words.

Kyle slapped his hands to his sides, letting a nearly frightening laugh escape. “There it is. You know you did it.”

“Cartman was getting to me, okay? You know how that is!” he tested.

“Yeah, but I don’t insult an entire group of people in front of my gay friends? You don’t fucking know how you’re hurting them,” he gradually softened his voice unintentionally.

“I didn’t mean to,” Stan muttered gravely.

“But you did.” Kyle pushed past him, thrusted open the door, and stormed down the hallway.

“Kyle, come here, damnit!” Stan exasperated.

Surprisingly, Kyle spun around, and rushed back towards him. He felt a small glimmer of hope that this would pass now until he fully took in the furious but dejected expression cast on Kyle’s face. “And don’t even try to fucking talk to me until you figure yourself out,” he gritted, shoving a pointed finger in his chest. Within a second, Kyle was already downstairs, leaving Stan alone and distraught in the lonely hallway.

Kyle attempted to slip on his white but smudged New Balance sneakers, muttering curse words and kicking the wall when he struggled to get his socked foot in. A voice caused him to look up, and he hid his internal grief over having to interact with someone in this state. “Where you going, Kyle?” Butters’ chipper but concerned voice inquired.

“Home. I’m sorry, I just have to go. Happy birthday, though, man,” he grimly clarified, aggressively gripping the back of his shoe to slip his heel in. 

“Oh. Well, are you okay?” 

“No. Stan’s an asshole. I’m sorry he said that stupid shit earlier,” Kyle droned, opening the door. 

Butters noted his eyes were abnormally welling up, but didn’t comment on it, understanding that it would make him more upset. “It’s okay, Kyle. I know he didn’t mean it.”

He puffed air through his nostrils, stepping outside. “Yeah. See ya, Butters.”

Butters didn’t want him to leave. This was a party. They were supposed to be having fun, not fighting. “Okay. Bye, Kyle,” he waved, closing the door for him. He watched through the window worriedly as Kyle put his face in his hands and combatively thrusted a kick into the ground. Blinking repetitively, he gazed up at the sky, trying to unblur his vision that remained tainted by watery eyes. To Butters and most people in fact, it was rare to see Kyle break into tears. If he had seen it before, it was only once, but he failed to even name the specific time.

He pondered going after him to talk it out, but stopped when a hand rested on his shoulder. “Hey, what happened?” Kenny wondered.

“Kyle left,” Butters informed him with a distressed frown, finally tearing his gaze away from the window, where Kyle was speed walking down the sidewalk.

“What? Why?” he blinked in frustration.

“I think him and Stan are fighting,” concluded Butters. “He was about to cry. I don’t think I’ve  _ ever _ seen Kyle cry.”

Kenny raised his eyebrows, equally surprised. Though there had been some scenarios where he’d dealt with a crying Kyle, it didn’t make it any less of a shock. “That’s weird. They were just fine a minute ago. Why don’t you go back to the game? I want you to have fun on your big day. Don’t worry about them,” Kenny advised, wishing for him to squeeze every bit of excitement he could out of his birthday.

“I don’t wanna just party knowing my friends are upset, though,” he told him gloomily. 

Kenny sighed, “I’ll take care of them. Just go have fun, please? I got this. Don’t even worry about it,” he gave a reassuring grin.

“If you say so, Ken,” he agreed, forcing himself to give a worn smile back that ended up making Kenny’s falter. Kenny ruffled his hair playfully and made his way up the stairs, first checking Stan’s bedroom, and then the bathroom, seeing as the artificial light creeped out from under the door.

Politely, he knocked, just in case there was someone else occupying it. “Stan?” he called out, putting an ear to the wood.

“Hm?” the voice sounded, muffled through the door. Kenny took that as his cue to come inside. Stan was crouched down on the edge of the bathtub, and picked his face out of his hands, running one through shaggy black hair.

“What are you doing in here?” Kenny inquired, propping himself up on the counter, beside the sink. Stan responded with a groan and threw his face back in his hands. Kenny noted that they were oddly large, just one able to encompass his whole face, then redirected his thoughts back on track. “Well, do you happen to know why Kyle went home?”

“He’s mad,” Stan mumbled, unmoving.

Kenny flicked his eyes away, muttering, “No shit.”

Stan belatedly started explaining, “I guess he was mad that I kinda freaked out when Cartman was calling me gay.” He bent over and traced the grout lines around the floor tile, avoiding Kenny’s eyes shamefully. His mind told him he wasn’t ready to tell the truth yet, despite the unwanted circumstances. “I mean, you know I’m not homophobic, right? He thought I made you guys upset.”

Kenny scoffed a chuckle. “Dude, I know you aren’t. I don’t know why you acted like that,” he threw in, not completely excusing his behavior. “But, did you apologize to him?” 

Stan picked his head up, confused. “Why would I apologize to him? Shouldn’t I say sorry to you guys?” He asked, referring to the couple.

“Well, yeah, but all of us. Kyle’s the one who was really upset over it, though.” In Kenny’s mind, he speculated the real reason Kyle was so shaken up by it. His instincts pointed in one, seemingly obvious direction, but he’d leave that to Stan and Kyle to work out.

“I just don’t know why he’s so  _ mad _ ,” Stan emphasized, voice astounded.

Kenny puffed a breath frustratedly. He didn’t have time to play counselor right now, and frankly, it wasn’t like it was his responsibility. “Okay, well, you’ll have to talk to him later then. I get you’re having issues with Kyle _ ,”  _ he impatiently sighed, “but you’re being kind of selfish right now. Butters is worried about your boy drama instead of having a good birthday.”

Stan scrunched his nose up. “Boy drama?” he reiterated, then tossed the thought aside, uttering, “Butters’ game is the reason I’m in this mess.”

“You’re proving my point. You’re being selfish,” Kenny deadpanned, sliding off the countertop. “Meet us downstairs when you grow up a little more.”

With that, Kenny shut the door with an exasperated sigh and traveled down the steps, leaving Stan in bewilderment. Sure, it sucked that they were fighting, but in his opinion, Kyle might have had a good, personal reason to be mad. Although Kenny was more irritated with Stan, he was still annoyed with Kyle for leaving so early and setting off Butters. However, dealing with Stan and Kyle was not his top priority. Of course, they would figure it out themselves soon anyways per usual. For now, he would make the most of this party—for Butters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait! updates will be slower bc of my busier schedule starting.  
> also I wanna note that I swear I don’t have a foot fetish, I was just trying to think of something gross to put in as a dare and that’s what I thought of LMAO  
> ANYWAYS I love to read comments and criticism so if you have something to say I’d love to hear it, bad or good:)


	3. Make It Something to Remember

Cartman slouched on the floor in the circle under an odd, content silence as he watched a hysterical-looking Kyle rush out the front door. Everything seemed to be going as planned. Now that he verified things were set in motion, he had no interest in playing and rose to go skim over the kitchen out of boredom. None of the remaining players made a comment, so he continued with nothing more than an irritated sigh.  
He walked through the doorway, Heidi coming into view. She had visible tear stains over her makeup, and he wasn’t about to deal with her right now. With an exaggerated groan, he spun around and left her alone again in the vacant kitchen, stepping back onto the scratchy living room carpet.  
“Eric!” she shouted, going after him. “Stop walking away from me!”  
Rolling his eyes, he turned around. “I don’t have time for your whiny period shit, Heidi. I was in such a good mood until—“  
“Are you kidding me?” she growled in interruption, gaining the attention of several surrounding peers. Shyly, she quieted down. “You’ve been an asshole all night, and you want to blame me for ruining your good mood? You’ve ruined mine all day!”  
“What have I even done? No one’s asking you to stay here. Go home and rest your cramps,” he egged.  
Her eyes were starting to light with a fire he rarely saw. “I’m not on my period, and it wouldn’t matter either way! Do you need me to make a list of what you did?”  
Already tired of the argument from the start, he sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets.  
“Just to start, you sigh like you’re so terribly bored of me every time I do anything!”  
Nearly everyone in the room, saving Kenny and Stan, were hooked in and watching like it was a disastrous reality tv show. “Yeah, because you bore me.”  
“Second, you complain about me all the damn time,” she jutted with increasingly angrier eyes. “Then, you fucking called Red hot right in front of me!”   
“It’d be a lie if I said she wasn’t,” he shrugged, appearing unphased.  
“Ugh! You’re unbelievable!” She shouted, uncaring of the audience’s presence now.  
“Sounds like you’re just jealous of how hot she is.” Somewhere in the room, Red scoffed in disgust, though internally, she loved the, in a way positive, attention.   
“Shut the fuck up and listen!” Heidi hollered at him. He froze. Everyone raised their eyebrows in shock at how aggressive she was being. Wendy smiled, pleased that she was finally coming to her senses. “You always interrupt me. You’re a douche to everyone you talk to, especially me, and I’m supposed to be your girlfriend,” she fired out. “You’re mean to the people that are close enough to even be called your friends, even though they tried avoiding you starting years ago. I mean, Stan’s God knows where after you pulled that stunt because you’re a shit friend, and even that’s a stretch!”  
“Okay, Heidi. Calm down,” he spouted, now provoked. Embarrassed over being berated in front of his peers, he wanted to keep his composure and be nonchalant, but it was getting difficult.  
“And, you forced me to tell you the party details because nobody in their right mind would give them to you! You just use me! From the moment you walked in the door, no one wanted you to be here! I should’ve let you break up with me when you threatened to!” She laid the last blow down hard and it struck him to the core. Turning and facing everyone watching the train wreck, she announced, “I’m so sorry that I’m the reason he’s here and you all have to put up with him.”  
They uncomfortably shifted and shared questioning looks reading, “Should we answer?” to each other. When silence fell over them, minus the low music in the background, she spun back to Cartman, who looked like he might break.  
“If you didn’t get the message,I’m breaking up with you.”  
“But why?” was all he could manage, though the answers were laid out clear. Heidi was practically the last good, if that, connection he had to someone his age. He’d ran so many relationships—that honestly weren’t even that great from the start—into the ground, and she was the only one who stuck with him through it all. He was essentially alone now.   
Heidi shot him a glare before returning to the kitchen, satisfied with herself, but uncomfortable with a room full of eyes on her. She was still sort of upset, because this change would be a lot, but she finally accepted that she needed it.  
Cartman stifled a whimper, and then suddenly broke into sobs. The only person who dared move a muscle was Token, who awkwardly stood up from his wooden stool. Laying a hand on Cartman’s shoulder and dancing his eyes between everyone and Cartman, he kindly suggested, “Hey, man. Breakups are tough. Why don’t you take a minute away from her or chill at home for the night?”  
Truthfully, Token was nice enough to try to help, but not nice enough to get through a night of hanging out with him alone to cheer him up. It was more than others, though, especially considering how much shit he put Token through.  
Cartman nodded, understanding he wanted to get rid of him, and left. It was as if the snarkiness drained out of him in that moment. He reminded himself of his plan and held out hope for things to change. Now that Stan and Kyle were fighting, maybe he’d end up with a new best friend. It sounded pathetic, but having Kyle around a lot would be less lonely, and he’d have the ability to make fun of him all the time. Heidi was basically just a backup, or maybe even a tool to get him where he needed, and she did her job now. Kyle was more up to his level, and intelligent enough to be his friend. Heidi, however, he thought, was far from his level, so it was okay that his backup was gone. If jealousy was the thing that brought him a best friend like Stan and Kyle were to each other, by all means that was fine by him. It’d be a nice change to have someone to do everything with.   
-  
Keeping composure was becoming difficult for Kenny. He didn’t want this fight to set off Butters’ party. Kenny knew how empathetic Butters could be, and how he’s nearly always worried about others more than himself. Maybe he was being selfish, Kenny thought to himself, but he couldn’t help not feeling underappreciated. So much work, time, and money went into putting this together, and he didn’t want the other guests to be Butters’ concern.   
After jogging down the stairs and pushing his irritation with Stan aside, he searched for Butters. Finding him on the couch next to Wendy, who thankfully looked happy despite her leaving earlier. He plopped down and wrapped an arm loosely around Butters’ shoulders, who turned and smiled at him.   
“Do you wanna have cake soon?” Kenny asked.  
“Sure, you know I love cake,” he grinned excitedly. “Did Stan say anything when you talked to him?”  
Kenny sighed, face falling a little. “He’s all confused. Kyle was mad at him for what he said, and he’s being stupidly oblivious.”  
“Why was Kyle mad this time?” Wendy chimed in.  
Kenny figured it wouldn’t be best to share what he thought. Even if he trusted her, it wasn’t his to share. “Not sure, really. I think he’s having some personal shit going on.” Noting Butters’ frown, he quickly added, “He’ll be okay, though. I’m just gonna give him a little space to figure himself out.”  
Wendy gave a nod of understanding before they moved to grab the cake Kenny had almost dropped earlier on the way over. Eventually Stan made his way downstairs after about 45 minutes of self-loathing or whatever the hell he was doing, but pretended nothing happened against the curious looks people gave him. It’s likely he would’ve left, had the party not been at his own house.  
Everyone gradually let loose again after the ensued drama worked its way into the past. Soon enough, guests began filing out the door one by one, giving thanks for the invitations and final birthday wishes to Butters.  
As the night came to a close, it was just Kenny and Butters, along with Stan and Wendy who were left. When there was a moment alone, Wendy pulled Stan aside to talk to him. “Stan, are you okay? I don’t know what happened between you and Kyle, but…” she trailed off, waiting for him to speak.   
He looked down, “I don’t really know. I’ve seen him mad obviously, but he looked extra furious, and he’s being so vague,” his voice cracked. He cleared his throat, trying to nudge it down.  
“Maybe you should talk to him before the nights over,” she suggested.  
“He wouldn’t answer my texts earlier,” he sighed in frustration.  
“Okay, well how much earlier is earlier?” She questioned, thinking he probably cooled off by now.  
“Two minutes ago,” he mumbled, almost embarrassed at the amount of times he repeatedly tried to get his attention. “He’s been ignoring me since he left.”  
To her, it sounded like something significantly bad happened, but she didn’t verbalize it. It would only make Stan more upset. “You should go to his house, then. I’ll even drive you there,” she offered with a warm smile.  
Uneasily, he thought for a minute before accepting. Fighting with Kyle always made him nervous. He absolutely hated it. It rarely ever happened, but when it did, it blew up. In fact, the last time he could recall it happening was two years ago, and ironically enough, Stan was mad at Kyle, thinking he was trying to steal Wendy from him. Looking back, it was against his best judgement, and he thinks he was more jealous thinking that Kyle showed interest in Wendy instead of himself. He couldn’t have been more wrong, and they made up within a few days.  
Stan wandered around the floor to find Kenny and Butters. He heard Kenny’s voice from the kitchen, but it sounded upset. He hovered by the wall, trying to eavesdrop.  
“I did all of this stuff for you, though, and you seem more worried about Stan and Kyle’s bullshit than making the most of your party.” Stan winced inside, finally starting to feel guilty.  
“Am I not allowed to be worried about my friends?”  
“Obviously you are, but it’s hard to feel appreciated when it seems like you don’t care about any of this.”  
“You know how grateful I am, Kenny.”  
“Not really.”  
Stan figured it wouldn’t be a good time to walk in. Was Kenny seriously that mad at them for ending up in a fight today? He didn’t want Butters to be worried either. Maybe he shouldn’t go tonight. They could just end the night in a fun way. It pained him a little to push off making up with Kyle, but he couldn’t deny that he did genuinely sound a little selfish.   
With a frown, he walked over to Wendy, who was patiently waiting by the front door, glowing phone in hand. “Sorry, Wendy. I forgot I have other stuff to do tonight, but thanks for the offer,” he kindly rejected, voice solemn.  
She raised an eyebrow at him with suspicion. “Okay, but you better not put it off long. I know how you can be.”  
“I know, I know. I won’t. Thanks, Wends.”  
“Uh huh,” she accepted, heading out the door. “See you, Stan.”  
He smiled and waved, closing the door once she got in the driver’s seat. After locking the door, he met Kenny and Butters, who both seemed somewhat tired of each other from their light argument, in the living room. Trying to end the night well for them, he suggested, “You guys wanna watch a movie?”   
“It’s okay, Stan. You probably want to get stuff cleaned up. We can help before we head out,” Kenny denied dejectedly.  
“Well maybe I want to,” Butters returned.   
Kenny’s jaw twitched irritatedly. “Okay,” he dragged out. “Then let’s watch something.”  
Stan shifted uncomfortably. “Okay, sweet. I’ll get popcorn. Butters, you can pick what we watch.”  
He smiled. “Yay, thanks, Stan.”  
Stan sent back the smile and raised his eyebrows at Kenny, slowly strolling towards the pantry. Angry Kenny was tough to be around, if he was honest, and hoped they’d both let this party thing go. He raised his brows back and returned a half-hearted, toothless smile to Stan’s relief.  
When he came back in with the popcorn, both of them were tucked under a blanket and seemed content enough. This night couldn’t be so bad. After all the times they’d been there for Stan, he owed it to both of them to make it special, and he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapter (compared to the others) after so long. I’m trying to keep up w school practices and this but I am working on it. Thanks for sticking w me and reading:)


	4. Always Forever

A light flurry of snow already began drifting in during the early month of October. It wasn’t anything the town wasn’t used to. The grass froze over enough to make an icy crunch with each planting of a foot. Winters in South Park were long, and it would only get colder. 

Kenny and Butters strolled down the sidewalk, Kenny wrapped in his same old orange coat, and Butters scrunched into a knitted scarf. “I think it would work!” Butters exclaimed, eyes spouting hope. 

Kenny sighed. “Remember how I said that you need to stop worrying about everyone else so much?” Though he was slightly worried himself, he’d rather take the load of helping Stan and Kyle resolve their ongoing issues than pass on the burden to Butters, who already had enough struggles to deal with himself. 

Butters looked at him flatly. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help them. Don’t you remember how I told you to stop worrying about  _ me  _ so much?”

Kenny let his head flop to the side with a playful eye roll. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just cause I love you,” he grinned cheekily. 

“I love you, too,” he answered, not bothering to force the bright smile off his face. “But, I kind of came up with a plan.”

Kenny stopped dead in his tracks for emphasis and stared, leaving Butters to slow and turn swivel back towards him. “Seriously?” he drug out. 

“Yep,” he piped cheerfully. Kenny rejoined his side with a raise of his eyebrows and they kept moving. Butters knew Kenny would try to pretend he was opposed to it at first, but would easily get more eager at the idea of scheming with him as he explained. 

——

Kenny appeared from behind a wall, wearing an apron smeared with traces of who knows what. He laid his hand on the shoulder of a waitress who smiled knowingly and left the podium at the front that held the menus. Stan decided not to question it and greeted him.

“Hello, valued customer. Let me show you to your table,” Kenny exaggerated formally.

“Wow, so professional,” he retorted, following behind Kenny past the majority of the customers, though there were few at the moment, to the back of the restaurant. Kenny chose an average sized, already set booth. Stan plopped down on the green cushion, sliding to the center overtop the small gash in the material.

Kenny smacked the tabletop with his hands, and said, “I gotta go finish washing these dishes, but I’ll be back out soon.”

“Okay, dude,” Stan responded simply.

Kenny giddily made his way back to the kitchen, drawing out his phone and sending a text to Butters that read, “Stan is here. We’re like halfway there now.”

Only a few minutes later, Kyle’s text came through, letting Kenny know he arrived. He’d asked both Stan and Kyle to let him know when they arrived so that he could take them to the more private booth in the back, obviously separately. Kenny tried to regain his composure and not appear too excited as he nearly skipped to the front entrance to meet Kyle. 

The familiar fro of red hair was hard to miss. Kyle peeked up from his phone and stood up, walking over to Kenny. “Hey, dude. Nice apron,” Kyle smirked, adjusting the neck like a mother would.

Kenny rolled his eyes with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Come with me,” he directed. He tried to walk in front of Kyle to avoid him taking notice of his own devious grin. 

Kenny sped up, but at the sight of the back of Stan’s head, Kyle yanked on the back of his shirt to stop him. “What the fuck is this, Kenny?” he whispered angrily.

“It’s lunch,” Kenny stifled a chuckle.

Kyle shot hot air out of his nose. “Seriously? I don’t need you meddling with my life.”

“Well, it seems like you do because it’s been weeks now and this stupid issue is still unresolved.”

“If it’s meant to work out, then it will. I’m leaving,” Kyle started to spin. Stan turned around in the booth, finally noticing the scene behind him.

Before he could go, Kenny grabbed him tightly, noticing Stan getting up. He walked over, trying to appear calm but was clearly surprised, whether it was in an unpleasant manner or not. “This is what you made me come here for?” Stan deadpanned.

Kyle scoffed, annoyed at Stan’s seeming unwillingness to talk to him. “I’m excited to see you, too, dickface!” He uttered sarcastically.

“Both of you better sit the fuck down. I already covered your meals and ordered you shit,” Kenny forced. Truthfully, he didn’t do any of that yet, but if guilt tripping them was what they needed, he’d do it without problem.

“Kenny, you didn’t have to do that,” Stan groaned.

“Can’t I just pay you for it and leave?”

“No, Kyle. That’s not how it works,” Kenny lied.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered under his breath, dragging himself over to the booth.

Both of them slid into opposite sides of the table, Kenny hovering over it. He pulled the notepad and pen out of the pocket of his apron, and asked with a cheesy grin, “What can I get you gentlemen started with?”

Kyle rolled his eyes while Stan requested flatly, eyes locked on the table, “Water.”

“And for you sir?” 

“Coffee,” Kyle said through gritted teeth. It was surprising that he hadn’t already left to go home. It gave Kenny more hope that this would work out for the better.

Stan was grateful Kyle was still there, in all honesty, but of course he didn’t need to show that. He expected Kyle to be angry, but a part of him felt shot down by it. Usually he was pretty easygoing, but it almost felt a bit like he was being rejected, and putting on an angry front felt like the best way to save himself the embarrassment.

“I’ll go get those and be back,” Kenny grinned, clicking his pen and excitedly running away. His giddiness helped alleviate the mood a little, but that didn’t mean Kyle wasn’t angry. He was actually pretty furious.

“Since we’re here, what the fuck, dude?” Kyle shot out, slapping his hands on the table.

“What?” Stan nearly squeaked out. He did in fact know “what”, but didn’t know what to say yet.

“Don’t play that game with me.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Stan said flatly. He’d never been great at being accountable for his actions, and on top of that felt a pressure being under Kyle’s irate gaze.

Kyle deadpanned. “That was the most ingenuine sounding apology I’ve ever gotten.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” He sputtered in frustration, silently wondering when Kenny would come back with the drinks to save him. 

Kyle scoffed, an irritated type of smile on his face. “Do you seriously think you didn’t do anything wrong?”

“No, I know I did something because you haven’t fucking  _ talked _ to me for weeks and every day you’ve avoided me has been one of the worst days I’ve had in awhile. I just don’t know what exactly I did.”

Kyle softened a bit and sighed, his brows relaxing. Had he not relaxed, Stan feared his teeth would crack under the gritting pressure. “Okay, well, for starters, it really pissed me off when you got so defensive over Cartman accusing you of being gay. I mean, it’s nothing new, so why was it such a big deal? Would it be that bad to be gay?” 

Stan internally cringed at himself at the thought that he sounded homophobic. If Kyle knew, he surely couldn’t be as mad. “No, that’s not what I was saying at all! I was just frustrated with Cartman because he was...being a dick.”

Kyle quirked an eyebrow in suspicion. Looking across the glossy wooden table, Stan looked oddly tense and Kyle could feel his leg bouncing. “I didn’t think you were grossed out by being around gay people—“

“I’m not!” Stan cut him off.

Kyle cleared his throat. He hated getting interrupted. “But,” he emphasized. “I was saying that it kinda hurts that you got so offended. Stan, you looked completely appalled when Cartman said that.”

“I don’t know how else to prove to you that I don’t hate gay people.” Well, he did know, but that was the last thing he thought he’d be doing today. He didn’t even think he was ready.

Kyle sat in contemplation before seeming to come to a reluctantly-made decision. “Promise?”

“Promise what?”

“That you don’t hate gay people,” he uttered. Kyle’s internal voice yelled at him for how stupid this was, and that it proved absolutely nothing, but he wanted this uncomfortable conversation to be over. 

Stan smiled, holding down a smirk at the irony, thankful that he wouldn’t have to come out to save their friendship, and plopped an elbow on the table, reaching across with an outstretched pinky. “I pinky promise.”

Kyle chuckled under his breath at the sentiment. Though they hadn’t had a use for a pinky promise in a long time, no words spoken over wrapped pinkies from when they were just kids were broken. It used to be their way of ensuring they could count on each other. Even when they knew that already, it was like a habit. Reaching forward, he linked their pinkies in confirmation of trust.

Stan could only wonder why it caused such a huge reaction out of Kyle. It had to be bigger than he was explaining, but Stan didn’t want to push for answers.

Kyle sighed shakily and began speaking in such an important manner that Stan didn’t move a muscle. “I’m sorry I got so mad at you, but there’s something you have to understand.” Stan nodded intently, heart starting to race as possibilities ran through his mind.

“I was just really upset because I was worried you would hate me, but I’m trusting you right now, so I actually think I’m gay.” 

Holy fuck. Stan wanted to jump from the table and into his arms from excitement knowing that there was even the slightest possibility of Kyle liking him back, but he did his best to suppress it in silence. It was only as he noticed Kyle uncomfortably waiting for a reaction that he remembered to do  _ something _ . He smiled comfortingly and spoke, “Of course I don’t hate you, dude. I’m so proud of you.” 

Tears pricked in Kyle’s eyes and Stan slid out of the seat with arms wide open. “Come here,” he said. 

Kyle slowly maneuvered himself towards Stan, trying to hide his embarrassment over crying, and gradually let himself melt into his embrace. “I’m really sorry I made you worry so much,” Stan softly said. Seeing Kyle cry was starting to have the same effect on him, and every sniffle in his ear made the lump in his throat grow bigger. He felt rightfully guilty and didn’t think about how his worries would affect anyone else. “I’ll always love you no matter what.” 

Kyle choked on a sob at the words and neither of them let go, but they had no reason to.

That was, until Kenny returned with the glass of water and mug of coffee. “I see you guys are done hating each other.” He clinked their drinks on the table. Stan wanted to smack Kenny for ruining the moment, but settled for sitting down instead. After all, who knows how long he and Kyle would have danced around the problems resting between them had Kenny not stepped in.

“Do you guys wanna order food?” He asked casually with eyes shifting between the both of them, who were silent.

Stan and Kyle glanced at each other, and Kyle gave a shrug that read, “Why not?” So, Stan answered on behalf of them as agreement. 

Kenny grinned, pleased with how he and Butters’ plan unfolded. He thought about how excited Butters would be when he returned to the kitchen and could text him about their success. Then, as if on cue, a song very familiar to them started throughout the restaurant. A partially muffled and old sounding lyric sang through the dated ceiling speakers, “You and me, always forever.”

Stan immediately shot a look towards Kenny that looked unamused, but he could see through it. Kenny chuckled, remembering the time he and Stan were hanging out and the song “Always Forever” came on. His brain vividly recalled Stan listening pretty intently, as it was his first time hearing it, and about halfway through, reflecting, “This song kinda reminds me of Kyle and I.” Of course, Kenny loved to speculate about scenarios, but combined with everything going on, he had enough reason to. 

It was the type of song that Stan couldn’t stop listening to after he heard it the first time. Eventually he played it for Kyle and told him he thought he would like it. He was proud in a way when Kyle listened, seemingly captivated by each word. Maybe the pure meaning of it to Stan went through to Kyle, or it was possible that Kyle just thought it was a good song, but something about it still held special to them.

Interrupting all three of their thoughts, Kenny butted back in with a warm smile, “Sweet, what do you wanna order?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this update taking so long. After this I’m planning on only having one or two more chapters so it’ll come to a close soon:)if you have any feedback please give it to me! Love you all


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